


Shades of cool

by huvudrollen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huvudrollen/pseuds/huvudrollen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet 1935. The last breaths of peace before a new war</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of cool

I was born in a summer thunderstorm in 1918. It was the worst storm London had ever seen. There was talk about people born under thunderstorms having special powers, but I do not believe that. It is just some old tale of thunder-people that my nanny Mrs.Hudson told me when I was a boy. 1918 was a good year to be born in. World War I was ended and peace fell over the world. Everyone thought that that was it, no more wars just everlasting peace and tranquility. Of course they were all wrong. It is human nature to fight, so fight they always will. But it is as I say, human error.

A warning before you begin; this is a story of love, but it is also of war and tragedy. If you wish for a silly story free of tragedy and lies, one where everything is perfect, then put this back wherever you found it. There is a reason why I am writing this down and it is because this story needs to be told. It is completely true, everything recorded exactly as it happened in this world. Now if you have gotten to this point, sit down comfortably because this is a story that is not to be put down until it is finished.

It was 1935 on the birthdate of my seventeenth year. I was alive and loathsomely wealthy. My mother always insisted that I have a birthday celebration. I never celebrated it with friends, for I had none. I had been home schooled most of my life. Mummy was convinced the schools that were offered were not good enough, so she taught me. Of course it was okay, we were Holmeses, a little bit too smart and beautiful. That is what people would always tell us. 

Our maid, Mrs.Hudson, also the fore mentioned nanny that told me the tales of the thunder-people, loved kids but never got her own. She treated my brother and I as her own children though, and she had baked a cake for that day. It was chocolate cake with strawberries on the top, though the strawberries were added after a bit of persuasion on my part.   
“Oh Sherlock dear, isn’t it magnificent to be seventeen years old? I remember when I was your age, so young and foolish,” she smiled fondly, “that was the year I met my husband.”  
“And look how that turned out,” I replied, “he was selling drugs from the pharmacy! Best not to do anything as utterly stupid as that!” I yelled over my shoulder to a very upset looking Mrs.Hudson as I dashed off to my room. I had better things to do than discuss the importance of birthdays because I honestly didn’t care. I sulked in my room until the evening came and mummy dragged me outside. 

I do not believe the tales of the thunder-people and I did not believe in fate until in that moment, as mummy dragged me by the ear and I laid eyes on him for the first time. My heart thumped a little faster my knees felt weak. It was a feeling I had never experienced before, maybe because I had no reason to before than. I barely interacted with anyone besides mummy and Mrs.Hudson for gods sake! This man just happened to catch my eye, however and if it were not for mummy I might not have ever seen him. I would have never seen his short stature and sandy blonde hair, and warm brown eyes. I had never seen him before, but how could I have when I spent most of my days locked inside my room. There were so many details that were jumping around in my brain and making it fuzzy. I could deduce his life story with one short glance. He was talking to someone. Friend? Wife? Girlfriend? No, sister! The sister was a little bit smaller than the man. She wore a lilac dress with black stockings and had expensive diamond earrings on. Were they from a friend? Lover? The man and his sister started walking to me. My stomach twisted. I was never good at socializing, luckily mummy had dropped my ear so I no longer looked like a child being scolded.  
The man gave a small smile and took off his cap placing it over his heart, “Good evening ma’am, sir,” he said, “I’m John, this is my sister Harriet,” when Harriet failed to greet us he elbowed her discreetly. She jumped, but got the message, “Good evening.”  
“Yes, it is just lovely,” my mother replied while I stared stupidly at John. His name was so simple, but it was perfect for him.  
I never understood love. Mrs. Hudson used to tell me that everyone had a soul-mate and when you met your soul-mate it was like magic. When you touched that person for the first time it was like lightning that hit your body. I was only then, that day that I realized what she meant. 

We looked at each other for a moment. As if we asked each other, ”Did you feel that too?” but neither of us dared to speak it out loud. He seemed to disappear and drown in my eyes and I couldn’t get quiet enough of his chocolate - or were they dark blue- eyes.   
“Sherlock Holmes,” I blurted out, “…my name.” John chuckled and offered his hand to shake.  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes,” and as I shook his hand I felt the shock of lightning Mrs.Hudson was talking about. He didn’t let go of my hand and I didn’t let go of his until our trance by Harriet clearing her throat and saying, “So I assume that this is your party.” A waiter walked by her with a tray of glasses full of champagne. She went to grab one, but John, utterly fantastic John, stopped her.   
“Harry, NO you promised remember?” Harriet sighed in disappointment and put it back. It was obvious by looking at her eyes that she drank heavily on a regular basis once I bothered to notice. How could John have been so mesmerizing that I hadn’t even made deductions about his sister? I couldn’t hurt John by telling him about Harriet’s drinking, so for the first time in my life I kept quiet and answered Harriet’s question. “Well, yes but I really didn’t want to have it. See it’s my the date of my birth and mum- my mother insisted.” A soft sweet jazz tone played in the background and my family was nowhere to be seen. It seemed mummy had wandered off while my mind had been occupied by John. Mycroft was likely with Lestrade doing things I’d rather not think about. There was a lull in conversation and we stood there awkwardly as I tried desperately not to gaze at John. A tall brunette with emerald green eyes and a black dress walked past us. She made eye contact with Harriet and giggled. Harriet smiled widely and put her hand on Johns arm, god how I wished that I could be her in the moment.  
“Johnny,” she sighed, “I’ve just seen the most beautiful bird. I’ve got to dash,” and with that she ran over to the brunette who pulled her into a crushing hug. “That’s Clara,” John said as a way of explanation. It hit me as John spoke that we were the only two left standing there. John and I, next to each other not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel the het coming from him.  
“How old are you?” John asked, “I mean because, well the party and all.” The question surprised me. Most people didn’t care, but of course John would. “Seventeen,” I smiled and he smiled back. “I’m nineteen,” he said, but don’t let it be getting out that I’m an old man,” he whispered grinning wider. “Um, I have an experiment that you would provide perf- adequate data for.” Where the hell had that come from? I had no experiment that John could provide data for! “I would love to help with that,” he said, eyes twinkling. Well, there was no way out of it now, “We will have to go to my room.” What was I thinking?

If I had known that by the end of the night, I would be completely head over heels in love with John Watson, I would have avoided him like the plague. But I was so desperate for the love that I never thought I would get it. 

I led John to my room. It was a big room with a king size bed by the windows. There was a desk that stood on the other side of the room where I kept all my notebooks and other important things about experiments and cases. The walls were painted in a soft off-white color and lined with bookcases and another desk for my experiments in progress. John sat down on the bed.   
“So what’s this experiment I would pride ‘adequate’ data for?”  
“I, um, it has to do with… small talk.” That was an awful lie, there was no doubt he saw right trough it, but loyal trustworthy John played along.  
“Alright, what is it that you do when you aren’t attending your mother’s parties?” He asked. I closed the door, even if it was against the rules, and stood awkwardly in front of it. After a minute of thinking I answered, “I solve crimes and do experiments.”   
”Is that it?” he smirked. What more did he want to know? I already knew everything about him and the more I revealed about myself the less he would want to talk to me. I sighed before saying, ”I can tell everything about you from one glance.” Great, that had probably scared him away, but he just smiled.   
”Oh really?” he questioned obviously not believing me.   
“I can tell from your clothes that your family is not wealthy and therefore can not fund your dream to become a doctor. At first I thought you and Harriet were just passing by, but you stayed, so you were invited. As we came inside I spotted your mother, she is a friend to my mother and is trying to get a loan for your education, am I correct?” John said nothing only stared at me, but it was not the face in disgust most people gave me. His face was filled with admiration.   
”Amazing!” he finally exclaimed. The compliment echoed through my mind, no one had ever said that to me, and it warmed my heart. I felt the blush as it crept up my neck and spread through my cheeks.   
”Thank you...” I almost whispered. I focused on my violin that stood by the window, anything but John. I never noticed how he got up from the bed and walked over to where I stood.   
“I sense that no one has ever complimented you,” he said. John was standing so close now. With anyone else I might have pushed them away, but I would not have allowed anyone else this opportunity. I couldn’t tame my body, my pulse beat wildly and my pupils blew wide.   
“No, they haven’t.” The, “they,” was all the people that ever hurt me throughout my life, physically or mentally.   
“What do people usually say?” John asked sadly. His hands touched mine and my heart thumped even faster in response to the contact.   
“Piss off.” We both laughed in harmony. His face was close enough to mine now that I could feel his breath ghosting across my flushed cheeks.   
“Has anyone done this?” He took my face in his hands and kissed me. No, John nobody has ever done anything as wonderful as this, I thought. I never had been kissed before and it was a strange but glorious sensation. He was able to pour so much intimacy into one kiss, a kiss that never seemed to end, but I didn’t want it to end. It was wet and messy and that shouldn’t have been as enjoyable as it was. It made me weak in my knees as if they were melting under me. 

We stood there kissing for what felt like years, his tongue rubbing against mine. We had escaped from my own party and now I was here kissing this man that I had almost certainly fallen for. If I could have chosen my destiny I would have chosen John because what he gave me was a gift that no one had ever given me. It was the cure for my loneliness. By the end of the night we were laying together on the bed. My head was on his chest as I listened to the beating of his heart. I had satisfying ache between my thighs and in my heart. It was the ache of a stolen heart


End file.
